Behind These Tired Eyes
by Yesm777
Summary: Tony works himself into absolute exhaustion, and Steve just can't understand the genius's self-destruction. In the dark hours of the evening, the two have a little talk, and come to better understand one another. Not a slash. Oneshot.


_Author's Note: I found this on my drive, and I figured I'd post it. It's a bit older, so I wrote it before the second Avengers movie. Just so you know,_ _ **there are a few curse words sprinkled in here, and also mentions of death and violence.**_ _Nothing too wild, but I don't want anyone walking into something they weren't expecting. I hope you find it entertaining! Please review if you've got a moment, as we authors seem to live for the feedback._

 **Behind These Tired Eyes**

Tony stared emptily at the three-dimensional, hologram design, his eyes burning with lack of moisture. Perhaps he should blink. What had he been thinking about before? Unquestionably, it had something to do with the hologram.

He refocused his vision, frowning as he gazed at the obvious design for a new explosive. Tony was sure it was the one he was making for Natasha, but he couldn't remember switching over from his last project, let alone reworking the design and refining. Hm, memory problems. Certainly wasn't the first time.

It must mean that he needed coffee.

"J, can you turn up the music?"

"Of course, sir," the English AI replied, immediately ratcheting up the volume to near bone rattling intensity. The current song was "Institutionalized" by Suicidal Tendencies, making Tony smirk. Jarvis knew him so well.

The song always reminded him of the old days, the days when Pepper was still his personal assistant. She hated this song. She'd told him it was just noise with some guy talking.

Hey, maybe it was. But he liked it and that was no crime.

Tony poured himself a generous cup of coffee before returning to the explosive designs. His vision blurred momentarily as he revisited the plans. It could be argued that he hadn't had nearly enough sleep. Meh, it wasn't a problem that good tunes and a steady dose of caffeine couldn't fix. He took a heavy gulp of his coffee. See? Problem solved already.

He blinked rapidly, attempting to rejuvenate his dry, aching eyes. His vision cleared enough to see and Tony offered a sharp nod of approval. The show must go on.

As he readjusted the bits and pieces, his mind wandered. How long had it been since he'd seen a pillow? He couldn't remember, not that it was that important. Surely, he'd managed worse. He casually blinked away the black spots dotting his vision.

Actually, this was pretty bad.

He stopped, dropping his hands down to the countertop as his vision hazed and dotted with pleading slumber. No, he had to get some sleep. He wasn't working at his best and it was wasting time.

With a frustrated sigh, he stood from his seat, wobbling a little as his body donned the realization of its exhausted state. Maybe it had been far too long. If Pepper wasn't in Tokyo doing her thing, she would've already dragged him upstairs by his ear. He absently rubbed at the side of his face, thinking of the last incident.

"J, cut the music," he grumbled. In a matter of seconds, his ears sang with pure silence. It was weird, the quiet. Most of the time, he didn't realize it was there. But, when he did…it was downright eerie.

Tony walked out of the lab without looking back, knowing he'd dive right back in if given the chance. Jarvis turned the lights off behind him, as if guiding him to the elevator with an invisible hand.

"Yeah, yeah. I got it," Tony sighed. Jarvis would never force him to do anything, but he had a subtle way of nudging Tony where he wanted him.

He stepped into the elevator, pressing the button to the main floor of his skyscraper home. Tony let out another huff of air as he heard the soft whirr of the elevator, humming as it pulled upwards. While he waited, he took a moment to check his personal hygiene, raising his arm to take a quick sniff. Yeah, he needed a shower.

With a soft ding, the doors opened and released him into the open floor. He stepped off heavily, feeling the unbalanced wooziness of sleep deprivation. Luckily, he was well practiced in the art of righting oneself. This wasn't his first rodeo.

"Hey, we've got aliens in the city again. Suit up."

Tony's head snapped to the side to regard the perfect, star-spangled Captain America. He narrowed his eyes at Steve's perfectly coiffed hair. Even his hair was flawlessly flawless.

"Uh, yeah. Sure thing, Cap," he muttered, mentally shaking himself awake. Sleep could wait.

Steve frowned. "Got somewhere to be?"

Ah, hell. Of course Cap would misread his fatigue for irritation.

"Nah, I'll be there, Spangles," he replied quickly, grinning widely. No need for the others to know. It wasn't their problem and they were depending on him. "Just give me a minute. Go on ahead, I'll meet you there."

Steve narrowed his eyes menacingly before trotting off to meet with the rest of the team. Tony watched him go, vaguely wondering why he hadn't heard the call to assemble. Maybe it'd been drowned out by his music.

He let out a heavy sigh as he leaned against the kitchen counter in the common area. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. He shook his head anxiously.

Nonsense. He was Tony Stark. If anybody could beat an energy deficiency, it was him.

He stumbled off towards his room, pulling on the snug suit he wore underneath his outer shell. He chuckled as he finished stretching it over his body. It was like a grown man onesie. A super official man onesie.

Tony began to jog towards the balcony, slowing when the world began to blur. No problem. Nothing the suit couldn't mend…for the time being.

He walked towards his usual launch pad, the suit being attached in a quick, efficient manner. Tony remembered the time that had gone into that excellent, little system. Funny how much work he put into not doing any work. But, with how often he was zooming off to save the world, it was a very handy creation. There was no way he was going to manually put on or remove the suit. Ever.

Just as the last piece clicked into place, he zipped off into the dimming sky. He'd forgotten to ask Steve where the attack was going down, but he figured it'd be fairly easy to find.

Tony wound through the streets, finally catching the telltale signs of an alien attack emerging from the ocean. With a burst from his thrusters, he raced to aid his teammates, turning on his comm link as he went.

"I'm here, I'm here," he announced, throwing a blast towards a particularly slimy alien with tiny eyes. Wow, those were tiny. How could he even _see_ anything?

"About time," Steve growled. Tony glanced around the area, seeing his teammates attacking various clumps of greasy aliens.

"Sorry 'bout that, Rod Podge," Tony shot back, smiling brilliantly behind his mask.

"Don't call me that," Steve huffed, his annoyance carrying effectively through the comms.

"Whatever you say, Cap," he chuckled, zipping down to meet his foes face to face. His vision blurred, quickly regaining composure as he blinked it away. Tony's body was starting to feel like a wet noodle, but he paid no mind.

He landed heavily on the ground, facing a mass of wet, hunched aliens. Tony frowned as he got a better look at the enemy. Geez, those were damn _tiny_ eyes. And they were even hidden behind a fleshy slit. _Damn_ tiny.

Tony chased the thought away as he rapidly shot his repulsor beams. The nasty, tiny-eyed bastards fell easily, but new batches continuously rose up from the ocean edge.

Tony's body surged with a sudden lethargy, his vision blacking out completely as he nearly dropped to the floor in an overworked heap. With a gasp of panic, he jerked himself upright, widening his eyes in an attempt to fight his newfound energy crisis.

It would probably be a good idea to end this thing. Fast.

Tony's eyes roved wildly over the scene, mind shifting and turning as he resorted to problem solving. Curious, he kicked off from the ground, zipping straight into the ocean. Aliens seemed to shoot from the murky depths, narrowly missing tony by a hair as he sped towards the bottom. He squinted, approaching a dark swirl of odd matter. A portal, his brain supplied.

He hated portals.

"Where'd you go, Stark?" Clint asked, his voice cutting through the comms.

"Thought I'd go for a swim," he responded cheerfully. "I found a portal."

"Sounds like an eventful swim," Natasha muttered wearily.

Tony quickly assessed the situation, finding some fragile-looking gem behind the portal. With a weary shrug, he blasted it to tiny bits, the black opening snapping shut.

"Portal closed," he reported tiredly, his voice lacking his usual chipper ring. Tony's eyes widened when he realized the slip, unable to find a proper cover up for his weary remark. They couldn't find out about his exhaustion. He bit his lip, hoping none of the others would notice. No one commented. He deemed himself safe.

As he shot himself back up to the surface, he could feel himself drifting off into a state of unconsciousness. With a jolt, it was quickly corrected and he continued his path.

Maybe he should put some shots of adrenaline into the suit. Might come in handy.

He popped out of the water, immediately turning his attentions back to the battle at hand. Clint and Natasha worked tirelessly at one end of the mass, Steve and the Hulk taking over the other. As usual, Thor was off planet, doing…whatever it is that he does out there.

With a puff of breath, Tony launched a few small missiles as he continued his repulsor blast attack. Aliens fell at a rapid pace, knocked over like dominoes on the sand. A few had reached the boardwalk, but hadn't lived past the first few feet.

A wave of weakness rushed over Tony as he dropped gracefully to the sand. He was running out of steam. Fast. Fortunately, nearly all the slime balls had been vanquished.

"Just got the last one," Clint sighed through the comms. Tony took the moment to zap another bit of energy into his bones. He straightened himself out, his limbs nearly shaking as they were forced to move and operate.

Tony noticed the team gathering together in the center of the battleground and quickly zipped over to where they stood, landing clumsily beside them. Steve regarded him irritably for a moment before addressing the other team members.

"We'll head back to the tower for tonight. Fury wants a debriefing in the morning," he announced, rolling his shoulder. Everyone nodded wearily. Well, everyone but the Hulk. He was too distracted by the sinking sun on the horizon. If his expression was anything to go by, he wanted to smash that too.

Tony smiled.

"Alright, kiddies. See you back at the tower," he gushed in farewell, giving a curt wave as he zoomed off alone.

He was starting to feel it now. Exhaustion trickled up his appendages and into his limbs, acting as a near numbing agent. If it wasn't for his easy flight path, Tony was certain he would've collided with something accidentally. Especially since his vision was managing a strange grayscale.

No problem. He'd get to the tower first, pull off his suit and stumble off to bed without the team noticing. They'd just think he's irresponsible. He could deal with that. As long as they could depend on him to cover their backs.

The real problem didn't arise until he landed on the balcony landing pad. He was down in his usual crouch, willing his body to pull upward. But it wouldn't budge.

Tony had used up every bit of energy he could muster.

Black burned at the edges of his gaze, dimming the visual picture before him. He had to move. Somehow.

With a heavy breath, he pushed himself onward, wobbling precariously as the mechanical arms clicked off bits of armor. He huffed in relief when the last chunk of metal came away, carefully tucked beneath the bridge.

Tony staggered towards the door, almost wheezing as his body pushed beyond its limit. He struggled to push the door open, finally managing when he threw his deadweight against it. He took a moment to rest against the doorway, ignoring the slab of glass that was now crushing him against it. Grunting, he pushed the door away from him and slipped into the vast common area. After a mighty stumble, he resorted to leaning heavily on the back of the couch. He blinked harshly, trying to refocus his foggy, swimming vision.

"Tony?"

Tony shook his head as he furrowed his brow. The team stood at the other side of the room, watching him curiously. How had they gotten here so fast? Bruce approached in his usual modest manner, eyeing him with a pool of concern.

"I'm fine," Tony muttered quickly, eager to get Bruce off his back. He _was_ fine. Nothing he couldn't fix by himself.

Of course, his body betrayed him.

He blacked out.

-oOo-

Bruce quickly closed the gap between him and Tony, barely in time to catch the billionaire from a painful smack on the head.

"What just happened?" Steve demanded, trotting over to the now unconscious genius. "Is he injured?" He frantically scanned his teammate, looking for any sign of damage. It wouldn't be surprising. Tony was pretty much the worst communicator of all mankind, probably because he was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to think of anyone else's existence.

Bruce sighed, sweeping dark locks out of Tony's pale face. "Jarvis, when was the last time Tony slept?"

"Mr. Stark has not slept for seventy-six hours and thirty-seven minutes, Doctor Banner," Jarvis replied, his voice calm and unwavering.

"Last proper meal?" Bruce prompted, pressing his fingers against Tony's neck.

"Sixty-nine hours and twelve minutes," Jarvis answered. "Miss Potts provided a late dinner before leaving for Tokyo."

"What?" Steve huffed, disbelief and horror pinching at his features. It couldn't be possible for anyone to even _function_ in that condition, let alone fight. Clint and Natasha walked up behind him, careful not to crowd Tony.

"This isn't unusual for him," Natasha muttered.

"What could he possibly be doing instead of _sleeping_?" Steve demanded, unsure if he was concerned or just plain angry. Tony was careless and it wasn't doing any favors for the team.

"He just gets caught up in work," Bruce defended, touching a hand to Tony's forehead. "He forgets about normal human needs." At least, he didn't have a fever.

"What in the name of all that is good in the world is he working on?" Steve spat, settling on the decision that he was generally upset. He could sort out the details later.

"We can talk about that later, Captain," Bruce muttered. "I need help carrying him to bed."

Steve huffed through his nose. Bruce was probably right. There were bigger problems at hand.

With a sigh, he gingerly slung Tony over his shoulder and lugged him off to a proper mattress. Steve laid Tony out on the massive bed, Bruce quickly scuttling over to the billionaire's bedside. Clint dutifully tugged off Tony's slim shoes, Natasha looking on without a break in her mask.

Nobody spoke, only observed. Without the usual wide smile to hide behind, Tony looked undoubtedly pale and worn. Dark brows and lashes seemed to stand out against the whitish skin while sweat glistened shamelessly on his face. It must've been difficult to plow through a battle on the border of unconsciousness. It was a wonder he held out this long.

"Captain, you have to remember that Tony has more on his plate than the Initiative," Bruce explained quietly. "More than any of us do."

Steve frowned, somewhat puzzled by the good doctor's comment.

Bruce glanced at him, returning to his simple examination of Tony as he continued. "Between his company, S.H.E.I.L.D. and the Avengers, Tony doesn't have much time on his hands. He's got too many projects with very little time."

"That doesn't mean he should stop eating or sleeping," Steve puffed. It was just common sense. For such a smart guy, Tony could be so stupid.

"He just forgets. He gets so caught up in the work," Bruce sighed, dropping his hands to his sides as he fully stared at Steve. "Just cut him some slack before you judge him." With a firm purse of his lips, Bruce pushed past Steve, exiting the bedroom in a steady stroll.

Steve looked at Clint and Natasha, neither one of them offering a word. Typical agents. Tightlipped when the silence was most suffocating. At least Clint smiled. That was a plus.

"I'll stay with him," Steve sighed. "Make sure he gets proper rest before he kills himself."

The two of them nodded, giving Tony one last lingering stare before leaving the room. Steve huffed, sitting in one of the chairs at the edge of the spacious bedroom. The mere act of relaxation drained the contempt from his blood, leaving pure, unadulterated worry. Yes, as irritating as Tony could be, Steve was concerned by the genius's irrational behavior. Surely, there was something more to this. No human would volunteer to such horrid conditions.

What was Stark thinking?

-oOo-

Steve had left momentarily to collect his art supplies, flicking on a lamp as he settled back into his claimed chair. Tony was still sleeping soundly, dark hair sticking up at all angles from the pillow.

Steve knew Tony was a bit of a workaholic, but this was past workaholism. It was almost self-destructive. You'd think you'd remember to _sleep_ at least. The body had its ways of saying it was tired.

Kind of made Steve think. What else did Tony cover up?

He pushed the question away, looking down at his sketch pad. It was probably unnecessary for him to stick around. But, he felt oddly guilty just dropping Tony on a mattress and leaving without a second thought. Maybe it was a selfish need that kept Steve here.

He jumped when he heard a sharp gasp pierce the air. Snapping his eyes up, he saw Tony sitting ramrod straight in bed, eyes wide like saucers. With a tired sigh Tony fell back to the mattress, covering his face with one hand.

"What are you doing here, Rodgers?" he grumbled, his voice muffled by his hand. Steve gaped for a moment, wondering when it was that Tony identified him.

"How—"

"It was either you or Bruce, but Bruce would've asked questions by now," Tony rambled off, sighing as he uncovered his face.

"Bad dream?" Steve asked conversationally, wincing as he saw the dark look on Tony's face.

"Something like that," Tony groused.

Steve feigned disinterest, sketching away without so much as a glance towards his teammate. "Happen often?"

From the corner of his eye, he could see Tony's head turn to stare at him.

"You suddenly worried about me, Cap?" he teased, smiling widely. Steve looked up at him, his brow furrowing as he made a mind-shattering realization.

It was all fake.

The smiles, the jokes. All an act to cover something else. It seemed so obvious now, staring at Tony as he laid wearily in his bed. Every time his vulnerability was in danger of being exposed, Tony would crack a joke or turn the attention to someone else.

Steve ducked his head, suddenly ashamed that he hadn't figured it out beforehand. He was the team leader. He should've known Tony better than that.

"Why do you do it?" Steve muttered, keeping a laser focus on the sketches at hand. Tony's smile faltered, sitting back up as he turned his stare to Steve.

"Do what, Spangles?"

Steve looked up at Tony, locking eyes with the genius.

"Why do you do this to yourself?"

It was almost disconcerting to watch the nervousness flash across Tony's face.

"Does there have to be a reason, Cap?" he laughed nervously.

Steve leveled his gaze. "I'm not an idiot, Stark. I might not be as smart as you, but I can tell when you're hiding something."

Tony smirked, eyes falling to his lap as he shook his head. "Funny. Most people take me for face value. I thought you were one of them."

Steve waited, suppressing his guilt as he continued his set gaze. Tony seemed to wilt under Steve's stare, his shoulders drooping wearily as his head dipped further towards his chest.

"Why, Tony?" Steve pressed, masking his concern under stiff intimidation. Tony turned away from him, hiding his face in the shadow of the room. Steve could feel the frustration gnawing at him, threatening to boil his blood in an instant.

"Why?" he repeated heatedly, biting back a growl.

Tony sighed, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. He looked tired, pale and worn in the dim light of the room.

"You know, I…I don't really know," he mumbled, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards.

Steve's irritation slunk away, suddenly absent in the pained silence. A strange sympathy washed through him, concern following close behind. With a heavy swallow, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Tony, you passed out," he muttered. "What if it happened during the battle? Can't you understand why we're concerned?"

Tony shot him a look from beneath dark lashes, as if annoyed by the mere suggestion. "Yeah, I get it, Cap," he snapped. "You think I haven't thought of that before?"

Steve huffed, shaking his head. "Then take better care of yourself."

Tony was still for a moment, the expression on his face drifting into the morose. Steve found himself holding his breath, oddly afraid of disturbing the moment, even as Tony turned his gaze to meet his.

For a while, Steve watched Tony struggle for words. The genius's mouth would open as if to speak, only to clamp shut again. Steve wasn't sure how long it went on, nor did he care. He was perfectly content with waiting.

Tony took a deep breath, meeting his teammate's eyes. "Do you ever have nightmares, Steve?"

Steve was stunned into a moment of silence. It was a question he hadn't expected, especially in such a small voice, unfitting for the great Tony Stark.

He offered a small nod, shaking off the shock. "Yeah, sometimes," he replied.

Tony nodded slowly, staring at the wall in front of him. "I have them all the time," he whispered. "Every time I close my eyes, I see death and fire. There's always screaming. Always blood. And I always know that it's my fault."

Steve frowned. "What's your fault?"

Tony's head snapped to regard Steve. "All those innocent, dead people. Killed simply because I created a weapon and was too blind to see the traitor in my own company."

"What do you mean?"

Tony sighed, as if carrying the weight of the universe. "Perhaps to you, my father was a great man. Maybe he still was when he died…but he was a shit father. His partner in the company was like the dad I never had." Tony's eyes met Steve's, fire burning within. "He used me. Was kind to me simply to use my genius to make more money. He sold my weapons to terrorists and paid for my assassination. _Paid_ for my _assassination_."

Steve stared at Tony with an open mouth. He hadn't known any of this. Although, that wasn't much of a surprise, considering Tony had wiped his own file. There wasn't much to know about the man except what was passed by word of mouth. Tony's captivity in Afghanistan wasn't much of a secret, though the details were a bit hazy.

Tony huffed, continuing. "But they didn't kill me. They used me the same way Obie had. They tried to get me to make more weapons. They put a magnet in my chest connected to a car battery. They shoved me in a room with some irritatingly patient man. Because Obie _betrayed_ me. Someone I trusted with everything _betrayed_ me. How can I be sure that I trust the right people? I can't. Because I know better."

Steve was silent for awhile, his heart sinking. He slowly shook his head, attempting to look Tony in the eyes. "You can trust us, Tony."

"If only," Tony muttered.

Steve bit back a sigh. "Is that why you don't sleep then? Your nightmares?"

Tony's gaze snapped to his in an instant, something dark and subdued in his eyes. "Would you?"

Steve stared at him quietly, mulling over the question thoughtfully. If he had to see Bucky fall every time he closed his eyes, he probably wouldn't be one to sleep either. "You've got a point."

"I always have a point, Cap," Tony mumbled.

Steve smiled humorlessly, nodding to himself. "Well, I may not have been there, but from what I understand and what I know about you, I don't see how any of that could be your fault."

"I should've known better," Tony growled, the dim light of the room strangely haunting.

Steve pursed his lips doubtfully. "I disagree. Someone betrayed you. You, as a human being, trusted them and they abused that trust. You had no control over that. Even if you _had_ made the weapons that were sold behind your back, you weren't the one to provide the arms for terrorism. You're a good man; none of it was your fault."

Tony scoffed, something akin to a sneer on his face. "That's high praise coming from you, Spangles."

Steve smirked to himself, eyes falling to the floor. "Tony, I may find you to be a lot of things." He took a heavy breath, letting the air slowly billow out of his mouth. "I may think you annoying, rude and careless, but you are not evil. Not by a longshot. Your intentions are pure, even if your behavior is...crude." He shook his head, shifting his gaze to meet Tony's. "I said what I mean. You're a good man, and I trust you with my life."

Tony's brown eyes burned into Steve's, full of an unfamiliar vulnerability. The two of them stared at each other for a long minute, saying nothing as they held their position. Steve swore he could see the moist shine of tears in Stark's eyes, but wasn't about to bring attention to it. He wasn't sure what to say as it was, favoring the complete quiet until another opportunity arose. Unsurprisingly, it was Tony who spoke first.

"You know, Cap. I think that was your best pep talk yet."

Steve smiled, chuckling to himself. "You know me, always working on the next big thing."

Tony smirked, dropping his gaze to his lap. "I don't know, Spangles. That one was pretty good." He heaved a long sigh, slowly shifting his brown eyes to meet Steve's. "I'll try and keep a closer eye on the time," he muttered, a sliver of an apology in his tone. "You know…to try and get some sleep at a decent hour." Steve brow nearly shot up in astonishment, but was quickly suppressed in the nick of time. Instead, he maintained a perfect image of control, as if he'd expected Tony's humility all along.

"Please do," Steve replied, folding his arms in front of his chest. "But, I think we can both agree that won't necessarily work every time."

Tony thought about it for a moment, finally responding with a slow, reluctant tilt of his head.

Steve sighed, smiling softly at his small victory. "However, that discussion can wait until morning," he decided, unfolding his arms and looking down at his sketch. "Go to sleep, Tony. Get some rest for a change."

As Steve gently scratched at his drawing, Tony continued to stare. He was continuously surprised at how much he misjudged the captain, initially believing the two of them were like oil and water. He was sure they were destined to a lifetime of verbal altercations and glares. Strangely, they were more alike than they realized, and Steve Rogers was much more understanding than Tony had given him credit for.

He fell back against his pillow, exhaustion already pulling at his eyelids. Honestly, a little rest didn't sound too bad. A waste of time, perhaps, but not wholly unwanted.

Maybe, for one night, the nightmares could give it a rest.


End file.
